Heartbeat
by Pinklily8
Summary: Because heroes are permeable and scared sometimes too, and they need someone to put them back together. Percabeth cuddle fluff, set between series.


.-.-.-.

The frantic, banging knocking wakes me up in a panic because oh gods a monster or a traitor demigod is coming to kill me off just like Kronos wanted -

I lay there in my bunk as it goes on, petrified for what must be several minutes before resolving that I either can try and ignore it or deal with it eventually or never get any sleep.

Rising slowly to negate squeaking from my mattress, I stand up, reaching into my pajama pocket to retrieve my pen. I never wear pj's without pockets for this reason - to keep Riptide close. It only took one midnight empousa attack to teach me that.

Carefully and deliberately I approach my cabin door while uncapping my pen which grows into a softly glowing sword of bronze and death. I grab the doorknob and unlock it with a small movement then shove it open, brandishing my weapon before me. And...

...Nothing. There's no one out there.

Feeling foolish, I lower Riptide.

"Close the door," murmurs something behind me, right in my ear.

"Gah!" I squawk, whirling around with such force that I do exactly as the voice asked.

Before I can begin panicking more, a figure shimmers into view, a baseball cap fisted in her hand.

"Annabeth?" I whisper, closing Riptide and replacing it in my pocket, "what are you doing here? You scared me half to death."

"Sorry," she mumbles, looking small. Her hands start trembling.

I frown. Something's wrong; I can feel it.

Her stance is rigid, her shoulders trying to swallow her whole. She's notably barefoot like she came here in a hurry and in analyzing her further, to my embarrassment, I'm pretty sure she isn't wearing a bra under her baggy sleep shirt.

"Are you alright?" I ask in a voice thick from sleep.

She shakes her head, mussing up her already frizzy hair.

Her quick answer only causes me to worry more because Annabeth almost never admits that she's not okay.

"Hey," I coo in what I hope is a reassuring tone, "what's wrong?"

Then, right there in the middle of the cabin floor, my girlfriend kneels, puts her head in her hands and falls apart.

Momentarily stunned, I'm glad that my instinctive muscle reflexes are faster than my mental state to recover. I slide to the floor and hold her in my arms, rocking slowly back and forth like mom used to do for me when I was very young. She turns her head and holds herself tightly to my bare chest.

She doesn't cry. She sobs, rib-rattling, finger clenching rips of emotion that even the darkest hearts would recognize as a sound of horrible loss and needing.

For me, it's torture seeing her like this. The only way I know that I'm helping at all is when I try to move away to look at her face she pulls me closer, nearly pinching my skin between her nails, whimpering against my neck.

"No, please, please, I - I need you - _I need you_."

So I hold her close, brushing my hand through her hair, avoiding tangling it more as much as I can.

After what feels like an age, she finally relaxes, sniffling periodically. I gently lift her head with a few fingers under her chin.

"Please tell me what's going on," I plead, afraid that I might cry now too, seeing her face all red and blotchy, her eyelashes tangled with drying tears.

"Dreams," she croaks, "and daydreams. All like nightmares."

"About what?" I inquire gently, tracing her face with my thumb - her cheeks her jaw her lips. She closes her eyes and leans into the touch.

"Spiders, monsters - every kind you can think of. Everything was after me, like when I was a kid."

Those things were certainly bad, but I know that she dealt with those kinds of night terrors all the time, and as much as it pained me, she usually brushed off help for those. There was something else under the surface, something that brought her running here for support.

"Annabeth..."

I know she is lying. And she knows that I know.

She looks upset, opening and closing her mouth like she wants to tell everything that haunted her but can't. She grabs my hand and holds it close, studying my knuckles, brow furrowed.

I can't help but find it incredibly adorable and would kiss her if she didn't look so troubled.

She speaks up. "I...I'd, it's hard to articulate, okay? I'll tell you someday, just not now. Sometimes the past is painful. It becomes too much." She looks afraid like I'm going to reject her earnesty and demand her to be specific.

I meet her eyes and I think I can see reflects of grief in them. Two neglectful mortal parents, an absent mother, her best friend shifted into a tree, Luke stabbing himself to save them all.

She's right, the past can be painful. Especially her past.

"That's perfectly fine, sweetheart," I hum, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear before interlacing our fingers. "Don't worry. It's all good."

"Thank you," she warbles, blinking away relieved tears. She rubs her face forcefully. "Oh gods, you probably think I'm a blubbering fool."

I grin crookedly. "Nah, I was thinking more along the lines of 'beautiful princess who I love'."

"Whom," she corrects unconsciously as a blush spreads across her neck and face. She shoves me lightly on the shoulder. "Stop it, I have no energy to be cute right now."

I sober marginally. "You're probably really tired after all that. C'mon, I'll help you back to your cabin."

She yawns in response as I help her stand and kiss her on the nose. She's too cute for her own good.

"Actually, I was hoping that I could stay here," she implores, her eyes sparkling prettily.

I wonder if she knows the power she has, my head feels fuzzy. Why do her eyes have to be so distracting? I can't think straight.

I wave my hand at the rows of beds. "Oh yeah, of course, there's plenty of bunks - "

"With you."

My heart does this kind of jumbly thing and jumps in my throat and then down in my stomach to knock over a cage of butterflies.

"Oh, um. That's - uh..." The nickname Seaweed Brain becomes more of a reality by the second.

She laughs a little bit at my struggle, which doesn't help since her laugh always sends me down a spiral.

"Oh, Percy. It's not like we're going to sleep with each other, just sleep...with each other." She sees the break in the logic of her wording and stomps her foot. "You get what I mean. I just want to feel your arms around me for the night." She scuffs her foot on the floorboards. "But it's okay if you don't want that, I - I can go back."

The idea of her leaving is not a pleasant one.

"Oh no, no," I quickly amend, taking both of her hands in mine. "If that's what you want, I don't mind."

She smiles so brightly that my pulse jumps 20 or 30 clicks.

It fades a bit. "Wait, if we get caught we're gonna be in so much trouble. We'll probably get put on kitchen duty for the rest of forever."

I shrug, smirking rakishly. "I'll tell them it was your idea." I see it coming so I duck her punch in time. I come up laughing, enjoying the attractive red flush on her cheekbones. "Don't worry, hardly anyone comes for me in the mornings except you. You can sneak out invisibly at dawn."

This passifies her and she lets me lead her to my bed and we lay down. I wrap my arms around her middle and bring her close. She hums in approval and twines her legs with mine. She runs her hand up and down my back and presses her ear to my chest.

"I love listening to your heartbeat," she says softly to my collarbones, brushing a kiss there.

"Oh?" I swallow, glad that my heart stays calm when she speaks that close to my skin.

"Yeah, but it always jumps when I touch your weak point. Are you scared?"

I can't help but chuckle at that, ears growing warm. "Ah, no. It jumps for another reason."

She flashes me a half-grin half-smirk and snuggles closer, warming a part of me that no else could.

"I love you," she whispers, splaying her fingers across my chest.

My ribs feel like they might burst. I hug her close, tucking my chin in her curly hair. "I love you, too."

For always and forever.

.-.-.-.


End file.
